


You Know Who You Are

by realjane



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Feelings, Moana - Freeform, Modern AU, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:42:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23877118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realjane/pseuds/realjane
Summary: Rey forces him to watch movies every Friday night, but a children's movie? Ugh. He'd do it, but he wouldn't be happy about it.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	You Know Who You Are

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Kaitlyn and Shelly, who enable my ReyLo addiction and *also* dare me to write fics based on Moana, because there are NO RULES*.
> 
> *there are some rules
> 
> I could never write a truly good ReyLo fic, especially not one that follows OG canon/fanon--but this was fun. :)

“I don’t like popcorn.”

“I know!” She handed him the industrial-sized plastic bowl, which was printed with space ships. “Don’t skimp on the butter, and salt like there’s a slug infestation. If I’m going to lose ten percent of the water in my body, I had better be choc full of sodium.” Rey kissed his cheek and bounded out of the kitchen. Ben let out one long breath. Movie night. Why did he let her talk him into this every week? He could barely sit still--and yet still she insisted on plying him with alcohol and a darkly lit room. It worked. Probably had nothing to do with the tiny pajama shorts she wore with little bears on them, or the way she snuggled into his side when movies got  _ emotional _ , sometimes going so far as to wipe her snot on his sleeve and then bat her eyes in apology.  _ I am a human handkerchief _ , he grimaced. 

“So much for popping the popcorn!” Rey stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips, laughing.

“You do it, I’ll probably burn it.” Ben held the bowl out to her and Rey conceded, covering his hands with her own and shaking her head.

“Fine.” She wrinkled her nose at him, but she wasn’t the least bit annoyed. She was always chipper on movie night. 

He leaned against the counter and folded his arms, watching her open the cellophane wrapping on the popcorn  _ family sized _ package. ‘What? We’re a family! We deserve the big bag!” she had insisted on the popcorn aisle at the grocery store, balancing a massive jar of pickles on one hip and smiling in that entirely innocent way that broke down his resolve every time. “So… what are we watching?” Ben asked.

Rey shook her head. “It’s one of Rose’s favorites, but I’m not going to tell you. You’ll like it.”

“I have a feeling Rose’s favorite movie isn’t  _ The Godfather, _ so. That’s debatable.”

“We can’t all be brooding mobster-types, babe.”

“I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse,” he recited, in his laziest marshmallow-mouthed impression of Don Corleone. 

Her nose wrinkled up again, but she laughed. “You already did.” They had been married only a few months, but it felt like ages. They’d danced around dating for years before she finally pinned him in that dark booth, in their favorite bar, after Rose and Finn had begged off in search of pizza, and  _ forced him _ to admit that he liked her. It had taken only three months to know she was  _ it _ . He had proposed with a simple ring. She had accepted with many tears. 

And then it came time for their wedding and he… got on an airplane and ran away. Cold feet was too simple a word for the clutching feeling of panic imagining her waking up one morning, realizing she had made a mistake, and then. What? Leaving him? The very idea of ever losing Rey had paralyzed him with fear of ever  _ getting her _ . Ben pinched the bridge of his nose. Still, she had come after him, and…  _ Why do I let myself think about it?  _ He sighed. This was the way his brain worked, cycling through reasons why he wasn’t good enough for her when things seemed particularly cozy. She had a nose for it, though.

“Excuse me? Hi.” Rey cupped his cheeks in her hands and rubbed his temples. “We’re here. In our kitchen. And I’m going to force you to watch a movie for children, over there. In our living room. Okay? Because I love you.” She pushed to her tip-toes and looked him square in the eyes.

Ben kissed her forehead. “I know.” She touched his chin and winked.

“Grab the popcorn?” He nodded. Rey swiped a bottle of wine from the top of the fridge and two mugs (Rey hated any glass that didn’t have a large enough handle to secure it to one’s palm. Ben’s small collection of cut crystal glasses went unused on the top shelf of their china cabinet.). “I’ll get the movie cued up!”

Ben followed her into the living room, carrying the popcorn and an intense, clenching feeling in his chest that he couldn’t shake. Rey was already perched on the sofa under her favorite blanket. The titlecard of her chosen film shone brightly with the garish tones of an animated film. He made a grumble of disinterest. 

“You weren’t kidding,” he mumbled. 

“Sit down, grumpy.” Rey pulled at his elbow and took the popcorn, setting it on the coffee table. As soon as he sat, albeit reluctantly, she threw the fleece over his legs and wiggled until she was leaning against his side. “Are you going to be comfortable? You should put on your pj’s!”

“I’m fine.” He didn’t feel fine, but his dark jeans were the armor he wore at home when being comfortable didn’t feel  _ safe _ .

“Suit yourself. I’m still cold, though… be right back.” She popped up off the sofa and disappeared down the hall. 

Ben leaned his head back on the sofa. It was still hard to think of this house as being half his. Most of the things in this house were hers. She had bought the house before they ever started dating. When he had moved in, after  _ much ribbing _ from Rey and a drunken lecture from Poe ( _ “You listen to me right now! That woman is very good and nice! Women like that don’t like men like us but she likes you! Why? I don’t know! Why would you throw that away? You’re WELCOME.” _ ), his clothing filled one drawer of her dresser and a few sparse hangers. He had one box of books, which also held his small, portable record player and a handful of records. He had brought his whiskey glasses. Everything else, pretty much, was hers. Ben felt a headache building at the base of his skull. Rey would be so sad if she knew that he was fixating.

She skittered back into the room in one of his oldest sweaters and he frowned. “Why would you wear that?” he asked. “You bought me a perfectly lovely sweater that’s much warmer.”

Rey shrugged. “I love this old thing! You first kissed me wearing it.” She plopped down on the couch beside him again and poked him in the chest. “I’m sentimental.”

“I don’t even wear it anymore, it’s _that_ ratty.”

“I wish you would!”

He scoffed. “Why?”

She glared at him in the way that he knew meant she was annoyed and not really angry, but it also meant that she wouldn’t let up until he bent to her will. She flicked open the top button on his shirt. “I like it when you  _ relax, _ Ben. Let your guard down. When you don’t wear your  _ formal denim _ on movie night!”

“This isn’t my--I don’t even  _ have _ formal--this is ridiculous, can we just watch the movie?” He scowled.

“No!” She swiped her blanket from him and pointed to their bedroom. “I demand that you… put on something comfortable! Soft, even! Something with a draw-string, preferably.”

“What if I don’t want to relax?” he protested, but he stood anyway.

“I’ll wait. I’m used to waiting.” Rey crossed her arms and pouted.

Ben sighed. He wordlessly stomped to their bedroom and divested himself of his shirt in a flurry of buttons. She always  _ needled him _ . It was exhausting! He pulled the Good Sweater over his head--it really was very nice, a soft black thing that looked hand-knit, and actually long enough for his torso, which was miraculous in itself--and then chose his comfortable pants. Well, he only owned one pair, but they were fleece and had a draw-string, so maybe she’d get off his back about it. He eyed his slippers, which he never used and always sat beneath their dresser. He toed them on.  _ I’ll show her. I’m so comfortable, she doesn’t even know how comfortable I am. _

He skulked back to the living room and sat beside her without looking at her, spreading the blanket out over his legs once more and taking the popcorn bowl in his lap. He popped a kernel in his mouth and crunched it pointedly.

“I thought you don’t like popcorn,” Rey said softly, leaning against his side.

“I don’t.” He crunched another kernel.

“Slippers, huh? You must be really relaxed now.”

“So relaxed.”

“That’s a nice sweater.”

“My wife bought it for me. To replace a really disgusting one that she is sentimental about.”

“She must be really nice, your wife.” Rey reached for the remote and clicked  _ play. _

“She’s something.” He glanced at her and she was smirking to herself in that self-satisfied way that always won her arguments.

The film was indeed a children’s movie--very likely recommended to Rey because she had complained  _ endlessly _ to Rose about the fact that Ben didn’t like to go to movie theatres, and he certainly wouldn’t pay actual money to see a film marketed to children and parents of young children… unless she wanted to go, and it got good reviews. Maybe.

The small girl in the film liked the sea. Rey cooed over the little girl’s voice, got teary as she grew up and decided to leave her family. Snotted on his Very Good sweater as the grandmother passed away. There was something about an idiotic chicken. The girl met up with a demigod when it was  _ quite _ convenient for the plot. Ben tuned out for a while. It’s not that the film was  _ bad _ but everyone sang a lot, and that wasn’t his thing. So he settled back against the pillows and watched Rey.

She had this habit, when she was really into something in a movie, of completely losing her cool. Grinning like an idiot, swooning, sighing, gasping--she was so entertaining. Everything he kept reserved she wore on her sleeve. He always knew where he stood with her, and sometimes that level of honesty was… blistering.

When he had run on their original wedding day, he had gone to the one place he knew that he could always find his footing: his parents’ cabin. It was just a short flight, he couldn’t afford to disappear into the desert (not that he had wanted to--mostly he just wanted to be alone to think, and every single day leading up to their wedding had been chaos, so he just couldn’t  _ think _ at home). Part of him wanted to be accessible to her, but too far away to cloud his judgment. He had left a message on her phone telling her where he was going. He hadn’t apologized. But at least she knew.

Two days after he arrived at the cabin, she appeared on the porch in the rain and knocked like she was going to break the door down. 

_ “This is not who you are, Ben Solo.” She had screamed at him until her voice went ragged. “When we’re scared, we talk about things. When we’re angry, we fight. We don’t run away.” _

_ “I won’t be good for you. I’m hardly able to care for myself, Rey.” _

_ “I’m not asking you to parent me. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, why can’t you see that?” _

_ “No. I don’t understand what you see in me!” _

_ “You don’t have to! But I think I deserve better than this!” _

_ “That’s why I left--you deserve better!” _

_ “Stop misconstruing my words. You know what I mean. I chose you for a reason. I know what’s in your heart. I think I’ve proven that you can trust me with it. I deserve not to be left at the altar, trying to explain to our friends and loved ones why you didn’t show up.” _

_ “It’s too much.” _

_ “What? Being with me, or marrying me?” _

That had shook him. Being with Rey was like standing too close to the sun; it had changed his life meeting her. He was ruined for other women the moment she laughed at something he said. Being with her was a lot, because she was a lot, but that wasn’t what was killing him. It was the pressure of the big build-up to a wedding that was too expensive, too formal, too impersonal for what they had.

Rey had solved that, too. It was easy to see that she was disappointed not to be getting married with their friends present, but she was happy to talk Poe into getting his ordination online and then take their vows standing on the edge of a rock formation in their favorite state park. With no attendees but a few hikers passing through and several chipmunks searching for crumbs.

She was like that. She was a scavenger of solutions--every problem had an answer in Rey’s mind.

His focus drifted back to the film and Ben found himself drawn into the last few scenes of peril. The young girl made it all the way to an angry volcano god, by virtue of her own might. He wrapped his arm over Rey’s shoulder and she sniffled. The girl sang a song that rang… familiarly, between his ears.

_ They have stolen the heart from inside you. _

_ But this does not define you. _

_ This is not who you are. _

_ You know who you are. _

Ben quietly got up from the couch and walked to their sliding glass door. He opened it and the cool air beckoned him to the railing of the porch. He stood at the rail and breathed in slowly. Then out. Then in.  _ What the hell kind of children’s movie was that? _ Small hands crawled around his waist and latched themselves together. Her cheek pressed against his back. Ben covered her hands with his own and rubbed them.

“I’m sorry you didn’t like it,” she whispered.

He took a moment to gather himself. “I didn’t say that.”

She squeezed her arms tighter. “Are you okay?”

Ben released her hands and pulled her around him so she was sandwiched between him and the railing. He brushed her hair off of her face where it had dislodged itself from her messy bun. “One time… I made a very foolish choice, and… you came after me.” He touched her cheek. “I don’t know how many times I’ve heard you say words like  _ that  _ to me. It always felt hollow, because I am… not great at accepting comfort. As you know.” She nodded gently and her arms wound around his neck. He lifted her up to sit on the railing and hugged her close. “So. It was nice. To hear it. That way.”

“And it took  _ Moana _ for you to realize that I’m right?” she teased softly, curling his hair around her fingers.

“I’ve always known you were right. It’s why I asked you to marry me.” He sighed. “But I’m having a hard time tonight, I must admit. With remembering.”

“Ben,” she soothed, pulling back from him a little. Her eyes were wet. “Trauma isn’t… obedient to any sort of timeline. You can’t force it.”

“I know.” He wiped her cheeks. “Doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.”

“You’ll be okay. You know who you are.” She smiled and he shook his head. 

“I love you.”

“I know.” She kissed him sweetly. “I love you too. It’s why I force you to watch movies with me.”

“And you were  _ right _ \--I’m much more comfortable outside of my…  _ formal jeans _ . I’ll try to relax a bit.”

“Don’t go against nature,” she laughed. “But our home is our  _ sanctuary. _ So loosen up at home.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good.”

“Thank you.”

She got a mischievous grin. “What can I say, except…”

“Enough of the singing demigod.” Ben set her back on the ground but he was… calmer. A weight was lifted, a bit. If only for tonight. “You know, he reminds me of Poe.”

Rey cackled. “Oh my god! Yes!  _ Especially _ when he’s drunk!” She swiped at her eyes. “Does that make me Moana?”

“If the… boat fits?”

“What does that make you?”

“...it’s not a perfect metaphor.” Ben kissed her forehead and turned on his heel. Rey padded after him. BB attempted to escape through the open doorway but Ben scooped her up in his arms. “But this infernal cat is most certainly the chicken.”

“I caught her staring into the corner this morning,” Rey agreed. “Just staring. At nothing. Not a bug, or a mouse, nothing.”

“So stupid.”

“Yes you are, BB!” Rey scritched the cat’s head and she purred happily.

Ben deposited their senial but still adorable orange tabby on the back of the couch and took his wife’s hand wordlessly. He shut off the tv and the lights in the kitchen, pulling her behind him. He locked the front door. She let him lead her down the hallway. For once, she let him decide.

**Author's Note:**

> Just. So fluffy.


End file.
